


Of Broken Lutes and Caring Witchers

by GonewithFantasy



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Consensual Kink, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion Friendship, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Cares About Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kink Discovery, M/M, Omorashi, Watersports, applies only for bonus chapter: omorashi, starved Jaskier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:40:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27008239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GonewithFantasy/pseuds/GonewithFantasy
Summary: Jaskier has been abducted and his captors have abused and starved him over the course of several years. When Geralt finds him, he's in a bad condition and absolutely frightened. Our witcher gently tries to gain his trust. ...because I felt the world needed more witcher hurt/comfort stuff.(This story is also uploaded on my account at fanfiction.net)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 64
Kudos: 223





	1. Chapter 1

There had been rumors about a group of men who had invaded an abandoned castle and settled there. So far, nothing that would spark the interest of a witcher, much less three of them. Yet that wasn't where the rumors ended. They told of people soon going missing in the surrounding area. When on the fields, the villagers could sometimes hear screams coming from the castle. Horrible screams of incredible agony.

But none of them would possess the bravery – or folly – to investigate the situation. As the men who could be seen entering the castle from time to time looked rogue and not like the kind of folk anyone would get in trouble with, the villagers just tried to ignore what was going on. Hoping the strange intruders would ignore them in return.

But rumors didn't just stay rumors. The village's priest witnessed how two of the awe-inspiring men abducted a peasant's boy who'd been absorbed playing in the nearby river. The boy had never been seen again but in the following nights the chorus of screams had been joined by another voice. That of a young boy. That was the time when the villagers decided to gather up their coin and contacted the witcher Eskel, who happened to be passing through the village.

Eskel had told them he couldn't take their coin, as there were no monsters to slay, at least not the kind that got a witcher paid. But the villagers had begged him to help and he had seen their despair. He hadn't promised them anything but had told them, he'd investigate the castle. After all, it was technically belonging to no one and everyone could enter it.

As the castle was only a three hour horse ride away from Kaer Morhen, where both Geralt and Lambert were currently residing during the winter, Eskel requested his brothers to accompany him. The both of them weren't of course exactly overjoyed with the perspective of interfering with the villagers' matters, but then again, there wasn't much to do at Kaer Morhen anyways.

The three of them travelled in full armor since they were under no illusions as to how the examination of the castle might go.

The entrance of the castle wasn't guarded but announcing their presence soon made a bunch of heavily built men come out. Eskel insisted on taking a look around, trying to make it sound as unsuspiciously as possibly. To be fair, with three armored witchers the room for "unsuspicious" was quite narrow but Eskel tried anyway. After some exchanged looks the men hesitantly lead the witchers up into the castle where several more of the brute-looking men had assembled.

A moment passed in which everyone just stood completely still – and then, all hell broke loose. The men reached for their swords and attacked the witchers, they knew it was either the witchers or them.

None of the witchers had taken any elixiers, as there were three of them and they had expected to be fighting only mere humans. No need to burden their bodies with what was essentially poison. They were fast, nonetheless. And deadly. The group of men was not exactly what one would call harmless and they were no strangers to swordfights. But they hadn't been trained in a way the witchers were. They did know how to use a sword, yet what they didn't know was where to strike to cause the greatest damage. They just tried to hit their opponents anywhere they could. The men were superior in numbers but the witchers made it up by their nimbleness and technique.

Soon the gaps between the stones on the floor filled up with crimson blood.

With one fluent leap Lambert landed behind one of the men who fought particularly fiercly and, with one deft cut, severed his carotid artery. The red wet liquid gushed out in pulses and sprayed the wall all the way up to the ceiling. At this moment, Geralt and another one of the rogue man moved right through the rain of blood, both completely focused on each other in a deathly dance, neither even noticing the warm thick drops that soon covered them from head to toe. Finally Geralt gained the upper hand and the last of the men fell to the floor. The man's head, left side of the ribcage and the left arm were no longer attached to the rest of his body.

The room fell silent, safe for the quiet dribbling of quickly cooling blood.

"Fan out, look for any survivors," Eskel instructed them.

Geralt headed to the nearest room and opened the door. The smell of blood (old blood, not the one that had been just shed) and fear was breathtaking. As a witcher, his pulse was slow and calm as ever, even after what they had just done, and even though it didn't touch him emotionally, he was still repulsed by the smell. Geralt's eyes darted around the room, which was full of corpses. Corpses that had once been people, starved and tortured until their bodies just couldn't endure anymore.

Instinctively Geralt used his heightened senses in order to find any remaining life in the room. There was none. He exited the room, exchanged a glance with Eskel, who'd examined the room next to him. Both just shook their heads and proceeded to search the other rooms. Geralt's next room was larger and contained considerably less corpses, yet all in the same horrible condition. He was about to leave the room, as his witcher senses picked up on something.

At first, Geralt thought his hope to find any survivors would betray him but then he saw him: At the very end of the room a young man, maybe 20 years old, sat on the floor, back leaned against the wall, hands and feet tied with ropes, completely naked. The man was so thin and lifeless that Geralt had thought him one of the corpses if not for the faint but steady heartbeat. As Geralt approached the man, he slowly opened his eyes and lifted his head. His eyes had no spark of life in them, one couldn't even make out a color.

"You're safe now," Geralt said, not knowing what else to say. There had never been any training as to what to tell someone in such a situation.

The young man's gaze darted towards something next to him and he intently tried to touch it, but it was out of his reach due to the ropes that bound him. Geralt could make out wire and wood, but if the thing had ever been more than trash, it wasn't anymore.

"I'm gonna cut you loose now," Geralt announced. That was the first time the young man seemed to fully realize that someone was in the room with him. His gaze focused on Geralt, who had already extended his sword to cut the ropes. The young man's pulse quickened, his breathing grew rapid and his eyes expressed absolute terror. A second later, his eyelids started to flutter and he fell unconscious. It was the combination of sheer terror and the fact that he was starved to the bone, no energy resources left to keep his pulse going that quickly and staying conscious at the same time.

Geralt realized it was him who had given the poor man yet more fear, where this was actually supposed to be the moment, from which on the terror should be lifted from him. The witcher quickly took his blade and with a few swift cuts the rope came off. Where the rope had been, the flesh was raw, not an inch of fat between the outer skin and the naked bone. Geralt contemplated what do do as the moments passed and the young man stayed unconscious. Under normal circumstances, a hearty slap in the face might get one back to consciousness but in that case, Geralt feared he might sooner break the man's neck or at least a few bones than anything else.


	2. Chapter 2

So, Geralt wrapped the man in a blanket he'd found on the floor, lifted him up and carried him out of the room. He was shocked at how little the the man seemed to weigh. At the door he paused and looked back at the mess of wire and wood, for which the man now hoisted in his armes had so desperately reached out. Geralt turned back and, out of something he couldn't really explain himself, he reached for the pile of trash and took it with him.

Outside the room he was met by Eskel and Lambert, both gloomily shaking their heads. But then they saw the young man in Geralt's arms, both were obviously shocked by the conditions the fragile body was in.

"Did he say anything?" Eskel asked.

"He just saw me and was struck with terror, then he fell unconscious, hasn't woken up since," Geralt answered.

"No wonder!" Lambert exclaimed. "Have you seen yourself?"

At this moment, Geralt realized he was still practically bathed in blood. "Fuck!"

As they made their way outside, Geralt became worried. He wasn't entirely sure if the young man in his arms was breathing anymore, the movements of his chest, if there were any, were barely visible. "Not now," he muttered, "not after everything you've been through, not today."

"17 lives taken...to save one," Eskel sighed, "if we even get that one."

"You heard that, fella? You better not die on us or all of this has been for nothing," Lambert grumbled, but there was clearly worry in his voice.

As soon as they reached their horses, Geralt instructed Lambert to rummage through his saddlebags until he pulled out a mirror, usually used for fights with basilisks. He quickly held it unter the young man's nose and Geralt uttered a sigh of relief as the mirror fogged in the constant rhythm of his breathing.

They passed through the village that had contacted Eskel, but no one seemed to recognize the man, who was now put on Roach in front of Geralt, held in position by one of Geralt's arms. Finally, they made it back to Kaer Morhen and on their way Geralt gave his best to shield the unconscious body from the biting cold of winter.

They prepaired a room and put a pile of blankets on the floor to lie the young man down on it. Eskel and Lambert went to talk to Vesemir about what they had found at the castle.

The man had been unconscious for almost four hours now and Geralt really started to get worried. If he wouldn't make it, the last thing that he saw would have been a stranger covered in blood who'd aimed a sword at him. Geralt shook his head to stop the thoughts and then went and cleaned off the worst of the blood. Afterwards, hoping against hope, Geralt went to the kitchen and fetched some bread and cheese, a huge bowl of vegetable stew, a few slices of fruit and a water carafe to bring to the young man.

As he entered the room, he once again suspected that his witcher senses were betraying him. But the young man's eyes indeed fluttered just at the moment Geralt entered the room. Geralt, having learned from past experience, stayed exactly where he was, and silently watched the young man regain consciousness. His hair was black with filth, there was no telling which color it actually was.

The second he was awake, he dashed in the corner that was the farthest away from Geralt und glared at him like a cornered animal. He was completely naked again, as the blanked that covered him still lay in the middle of the room on the pile of other blankets. He immediately started to shiver but made no attempt to get back to the blankets which would have meant being closer to Geralt.

"You are no prisoner... ," Geralt started, "you may leave whenever you like. I'd just like to make sure you are in any condition to actually travel without collapsing right in front of the door in the snow." And then, because he realized the young man might actually not have seen the sky for who knows how long, he added: "It's winter." And then he felt dumb for making the last statement in such a situation. But Geralt wasn't sure if the young man had listened to – much less understood – anything of what Geralt had been saying, anyway.

He could see his eyes carefully darting between Geralt and the tray of food the witcher carried.

"Yes, I brought this for you, you shall never go hungry ever again." Geralt put the tray down on the floor and then sat down himself, hoping he wouldn't be as intimidating. Not knowing how to pass the tray to the young man without getting so close that he would scare him right into unconsciousness again, he shoved it with his foot towards the middle of the room as far as he could.

The other man had definitely taken interest in the food and was obviously split between getting it and keeping his distance from the witcher. Geralt knew there wasn't anything he could say to encourage the man that he didn't already express with his body language, so he waited in silence. After a few moments that stretched like hours the young man quickly moved forward, grabbed the tray and retreated back in the corner.

Geralt gave him a small smile, but the man was completely distracted with the food. He immediately started to wolf down the stew (Geralt had forgotten to bring a spoon but that didn't seem to stop him in the slightest). Geralt was honestly impressed by the speed, but started to worry as the young man soon started to retch. His stomach just wasn't used to eating that quickly anymore...or that much.

"Go slower," Geralt said calmly, but the young man suppressed the retching and kept gobbling down the food – only to be soon vomiting it all out on the floor.

His shaking increased, Geralt couldn't tell if it was from being naked in the cold or from the shock of vomiting. The young man looked like he was about to consider to just eat his own vomit from off the floor, tray forgotten next to him. He just seemed to be so used to having nothing to eat that he would go with anything even remotely edible.

Geralt's heart tightened at this awareness, but he really didn't want that poor person to eat his own vomit. "Wait," he exclaimed sharply, and it actually got the man to interrupt his actions, "take the food from the tray. I can get you as much of that as you like, just...don't eat that," and he nodded towards the puddle on the floor.

The man glared at him, than slowly turned to the bowl - just to continue to eat at the same speed, obviously too afraid that someone might take the food from him if he didn't devour it here and now, as quickly as possible. And it got him the same result as before. Geralt was contemplating to gather the remaining food and hand it to him in little bits instead, in order to make the young man eat more slowly. But then he realized the emotional shock he would put him through by doing that.

He probably had been suffering from hunger every day for months, years maybe, never knowing if there would be enough to even keep him alive for another day. Taking food away from him now would make Geralt no different than his captors in the eyes of the other man. Geralt decided he never wanted to see that man's food ever be rationed again, even if it meant he would puke all over the floor time and time again, until he'd learned no one would come and take it away from him.

The man had gotten to the bread and cheese and seemed to slow down a bit at last.

"That's it," Geralt spoke with a soothing voice, "just go slow, there is enough food, you just need to give your stomach time to deal with it."

He still wasn't sure if the other one even listened to his words.

Soon he threw up again, this time the cause probably wasn't the speed, but that he didn't stop when his stomach was full. With a sigh Geralt stood up (the other man winced at the movement) and went to the kitchen to get more food. This time he served it on a plate as he couldn't retrieve the tray without frightening the man.

He returned and pushed the plate over to the young man, it was filled with fruit, bread and cheese. Geralt hoped that this might animate him to reduce his eating speed as it was harder to wolf down than the stew. He had also brought a cream-coloured jerkin and some pants, which he put next to the door.

And finally, _finally_ , the young man seemed to understand and stopped after a small portion and drank some of the water instead.

Geralt felt the impulse to praise him, but then he reminded himself that that would be like raising a child using praise and punishment, because it didn't know any better. The young man did know better. He just couldn't fight what was pure survival instinct, after months or years of being starved everyone would act like that. Being aware of that, Geralt just gave him a slight nod. Then he looked at all the puddles of puke and the intensifying shivers that ran down the other's spine. His skin also started to turn slightly blue.

"Look, I will now move to the other corner at the back of the room. You can move to the other wall and grab the clothes I brought for you, alright?"

As Geralt realized this would put the other man right next to the door, he added: "And please don't try to run. We're in the middle of nowhere and it's deep winter." Only afterwards he acknowledged that his words might be interpreted as slightly threatening, but he couldn't change them now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think, will Jaskier try to run? ;)
> 
> Author's note: I know that in witcher lore basilisks can't be fought with mirrors (except when you hit them square in the face with one ^^). But I desperately wanted Geralt to have this mirror with him to check if Jaskier was still breathing. And I didn't want you to think Geralt carried it around for vain reasons, sooo umm, yeah. :D


	3. Chapter 3

Geralt moved slowly across the room, keeping his distance from the other man in order not to scare him anymore than he already did. The man moved in synch, until he stood in front of the clothes. Hesitantly, he put them on. They looked several sizes too big on him but the witchers couldn't offer anything else.

Geralt turned to clean up the vomit, trying to make clear, he was _only_ cleaning up the puddles and not taking away the rest of the food. Then he heard the door open and the sound of quickly removing footsteps. He sighed. He decided not to go after the man immediately to avoid making him feel like prey that was chased down by a predator. He wouldn't get far anyway, not in the state his body was in. After he finished cleaning up, he followed him.

It didn't take Geralt long to find the man, he had only made it around two corners until his abused body had forced him to take break. But when he saw Geralt, he jumped up again, blindly fleeing through the next door which put him into the room with a huge window. He stopped in front of the window and, for one fraction of a moment, he seemed to have all but forgotten Geralt as he gazed out the window at the sun, the snow, the trees... It looked like he hadn't seen those things for a long, long time.

" _If I die here, at least I got to see the sun for one last time,_ " the young man thought to himself. And then his eyes filled with tears. He quickly blinked them away.

The witcher came closer, but the man couldn't run any more, his body just wasn't able to. He let himself slide down the wall next to the window and looked at the witcher. He was still shivering from the cold, or maybe it was trembling from fear, from shock...he didn't care anymore. Geralt carefully slid down the wall at the other side of the window, leaving about seven feet of space between them. He saw the other man shiver and rememberd how his skin had started to turn blue. This was really starting to get serious and he didn't know how much that starved, exploited body could take before passing out once again.

"You know, it's not far to my room from here and there's a fireplace. I could light a fire."

Looking at the other man's hair he added: "Or you could take a hot bath first, if you'd like."

As there was, as expected, no answer, Geralt decided he had to get at least another blanket or two to prevent hypothermia. He rose and headed towards the door. Jaskier finally decided he wanted to know his fate. It was inevitable anyways, so he could just as well get clarity on it. The witcher wanted him clean and in his room, so it was pretty obvious.

"Will you rape me too?" he asked, voice completely flat.

At this, the witcher shot around so fast that his movements blurred and at the moment it became very clear that he wasn't entirely human. With a few quick steps he moved right towards Jaskier.

 _Why did I have to ask? Why didn't I just keep quiet? Why couln't I enjoy the few moments of peace before I suffer again? No, I just had to go and force his hand._ Jaskier pulled his knees toward his chest and pressed his back as close as possible against the wall, bracing himself for whatever was to come. He even thought about breaking the window and jumping out and into his certain death, but he knew his effort would be in vain as the glass was just too thick.

The witcher stopped three feet in front of Jaskier and got down on both knees, keeping his head at the same level as Jaskier's, waiting patiently for him to capture his gaze. At first Jaskier just looked at the floor. Then slowly, as he realized the witcher seemed to have frozen in place, he let his eyes travel upwards until he met the witcher's amber ones.

He was completely taken by surprise, as he saw nothing but pain in them. Pain so purely, so unconcealed and utterly honest. And at once he realized that they mirrored his own pain, that his pain was indeed the reason why the witcher's eyes looked that way. Like he was about to cry even though they weren't filled with tears. And strangely the absence of tears just intensified the look of pain, made it more real, less of a fleeting emotion and more like it was buried deep within his core...as Jaskier's pain was buried in his own heart.

Jaskier held the witcher's gaze and he could feel the same expression creeping up on his own face. No tears, just deep and utter sorrow. The fact that someone mirrored his inmost feelings in a way that was so much more honest and expressed so much more than words could ever say, seemed to calm him, take away the hysterical element of the emotions. Or maybe he was still too traumatized and his body just couldn't muster the energy to be hysterically crying right now.

Neither of them could tell how long the moment lasted but it might very well have been several minutes. Finally Jaskier broke away, his body was shaking with uncontrollable shivers from the cold. Geralt, not wanting to destroy the moment just yet, tried to keep his voice as gentle as possible as he asked: "May I know what to call you? Just give me a name to go by, any name."

Jaskier's eyes remained fixed on the floor as he tried to remember the person he used to be before he had been abducted by that horrible men. When his life had been full of good, of dance and music, of poetry and the sheer joy of performing. When he had been a bard who had made up a new name for himself, one of a small yellow flower, just because he could. He had been so innocent back then. He wanted that person to come to life again and so the name he gave Geralt was: "Jaskier". His voice was quiet, yet it didn't shake. Much unlike the rest of his body.

"Thank you, Jaskier," Geralt replied almost solemly, "I'm Geralt."

Geralt was aware that the name was obviously made up, but it seemed to hold some kind of meaning to the other man. The witcher decided that he couldn't leave the man he now knew to be Jaskier in the cold for a minute longer. Still kneeling in front of him, he tried again, voice still soft: "So, bath, my room with the fireplace or back to your room?"

Jaskier seemed to consider his options and Geralt noticed that it was the first time Jaskier had been calm enough to actually listen to what the witcher was telling him. Jaskier absently ran a hand through his hair and his fingers almost got stuck in the sticky mess. "Umm...bath?" It was almost a question.

"Come on then," Geralt said, "I'll lead you there".

In hindsight neither of them could fully recall how Jaskier had made it to the bath on his own without collapsing again, but he did.

Suddenly Geralt realized that the rapid change of temperature and the hot water touching the wounds at Jaskier's wrists from where the ropes had cut into his flesh might actually cause a circulatory collapse. He explained the problem to Jaskier and told him to take it slow, then filled the wooden bathtub about one and a half feet high with hot water, letting it cool a little first before he sent Jaskier in.

The witcher had left him with soap, towels and new clothes to put on afterwards and had told him to call if he needed anything. There wasn't really much more he could do but wait in front of the door and hope everything would go well. His witcher senses were carefully trained at was going on behind the door to catch if anything was wrong.

Geralt heard the splashing of water that went on for a few minutes. Then he heard Jaskier get out of the bathtub and put on the new jerkin and trousers. And then...silence. Geralt strained his ears but the silence lasted. "Everything alright?" he asked but there was no answer.

"Jaskier?" Still no answer. "Okay, I'm coming in now if you don't say anything."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a review and tell me, what you think! :)


	4. Chapter 4

Carefully Geralt opened the door – and saw Jaskier lying on the floor, curled up in a tight ball on the bath rug, moments away from falling asleep if not sleeping already. Taking that bath had obviously taken up every last bit of his energy.

But he was clean now, even though the stench of that awful castle would still linger faintly for a few more days before it would be gone for good. Geralt could now see that his hair was brown, one might call it chocolate brown, but Geralt didn't feel poetical like that.

Now that the dirt had left Jaskier's skin, the cuts and bruises were all the more obvious and these were only the ones that weren't covered by his clothes.

As Geralt came closer, Jaskier stirred and slowly opened his eyes. If he'd already been asleep, it hadn't been deep, as he seemed to recall where he was and that the witcher in front of him meant no immediate threat.

Geralt carefully sat down next to Jaskier.

The bath water might have been warm but the room itself was not due to the chill of winter that crept through all of Kaer Morhen. "Let's get you to my room so you can sleep in front of the fireplace, okay?" he suggested. Jaskier nodded but made no attempt to get up.

The witcher hesitated but then he proceeded: "I could carry you there...do you think you would be alright with that?" Jaskier nodded for the second time, eyes already half-closed again. _The total exhaustion must dull his fear_ , Geralt thought, and he was thankful for it.

"There you go," Geralt said, as he extended his arms to lift the smaller man up, yet waited for Jaskier to bridge the last bit of the distance that separated the two of them. After one heartbeat (the slow heartbeat of a witcher, but nevertheless a heartbeat) Jaskier closed the distance and let Geralt lift him up like he was a small child.

Jaskier's head rested on the witcher's shoulder, leaning against his neck. Geralt tried to hold Jaskier as gently as possible, afraid to break any of his fragile bones or to hurt him just by his touch.

But all the way up to Geralt's room Jaskier didn't even move once and his breathing remained deep and even. In fact, the witcher was suspecting that Jaskier was seconds away from falling asleep in his arms.

He could feel a warm, foreign feeling spreading inside of his chest. But the witcher reminded himself that Jaskier's behavior was problably less based on trust – let alone affection – and more on the fact that Jaskier was just so completely and utterly drained.

Geralt put Jaskier down, lit a fire and hurried to build him a makeshift bed in front of the fireplace by gathering all the pillows and blankets he could find in his room.

In order to distract Jaskier from falling asleep on the dusty floor in the meantime, the witcher handed him a huge glass of water.

He'd been meaning to also give him another plate of food, as well as to cover the rope burn marks on Jaskier's wrists and ankles with salve to prevent infection. But both of these things would have to wait until Jaskier had gotten some propper rest.

Despite being dead-tired, Jaskier gulped down the water like he hadn't gotten any for days.

Once again Geralt realized that this might very well have been the case when Jaskier had been at the mercy of those creatures who merely deserved to be called humans. Sudden anger flared up in Geralt and he regretted that the witchers had ended the lives of those monsters so quickly.

After Jaskier had finished the water, he crawled in between the blankets and uttered a contented sigh as he felt the soothing warmth of the fireplace spread around him.

"Rest now," Geralt said softly and was about to get up and find himself an empty guest room to sleep in, but Jaskier quickly extended his hand, blindly reaching for Geralt, and whispered: "Please don't go".

For a short moment the witcher was taken by surprise. Then the strange warm feeling in his chest intensified and without thinking about it, he put his hand on Jaskier's and replied reassuringly: "Don't be afraid, I'll be right here with you, nothing can hurt you anymore."

And with that Jaskier had the first good night's sleep in a very, very long time.

For an hour the witcher just sat there and watched the young man sleep peacefully, until he finally retreated to his own bed which wasn't far from the fireplace. The fire warmed his room and Geralt, being used to the cooler temperatures, soon started to sweat. He took off his jerkin, rolled on his back and fell asleep in no time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is a little shorter but it just felt so fitting to end it here. :)


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning Jaskier was roused by a heavy pressure on his bladder. Still half asleep his first instinct was to just let go right there, as there is really no point in holding it when you're tied up and nobody is going to come and take you to the latrine anyways. But his subconscious realized that something was off. He wasn't feeling cold and his throat didn't burn from thirst. He opened his eyes. For a short time he was confused as his mind slowly pieced together last day's events. As the realization of where he was sunk he, he quickly doubled his efforts to hold it back and got up.

He looked for a chamber pot but there was none. His eyes turned to the sleeping witcher. He couldn't help but look at the many scars covering the witcher's muscular torso. His mind obviously had connected the view of a certain amount of exposed skin with the horrors he had endured back at the castle. Most of the unfortunate prisoners had worn no clothing at all as Jaskier had watched them suffer and eventually die from starvation and thirst – and his captors had been naked when they'd taken out their perverted desires on him.

The sight of the witcher's exposed torso made Jaskier both wanting to cover Geralt up in some desperate (but completely unnecessary) attempt to keep him safe as well as wanting to hide in order to protect himself. He took a few deep breaths and came to the conclusion that he had to wake the witcher up. Yet every survival instinct in him screamed that touching a sleeping witcher was a foolish idea, probably the last one he might ever have.

Indecisively, he let his gaze wander. He noticed that Geralt's room had a window through which he could see the sun that was just about to rise, bathing the snowy landscape in a warm, golden light. Jaskier was taken by the view (after all, he was a poet and being touched by these sorts of things was practically in his job description), however, his bladder quickly drew his attention back to more pressing matters.

He was still hesitant to touch the sleeping witcher, so he called Geralt's name a few times instead. No response, Geralt wasn't even shifting. Jaskier shortly considered to just wait, but his bladder was really starting to hurt. Acknowledging he was faced with the choice of either waking the witcher up or leaving a puddle on the floor, he slowly extended his hand and rubbed Geralt's arm, ready to jump back at any second.

Geralt stirred, opened his eyes and stretched. A smile found its way on his lips as he recognized who had woken him. "Hello there," he greeted Jaskier, "glad to see you finally got some rest. You're probably hungry, I'll get you breakfast."

Panicked that the witcher might get out and leave him in this awkward predicament, Jaskier blurted out: "No, I have to go – like, right now!"

The witcher gave him an apologetic look and answered: "Look, as I already explained to you yesterday, you're not in any condition to travel just yet. But know that you're not our prisoner and if there's anyone you want to write a letter to..." - " _No,_ Geralt, I'm about to burst, so _please_... ," Jaskier's voice became a desperate whine as he could really feel himself reaching his limits. It was probably also made worse by the fact that he just wasn't used to holding it anymore and that he'd already almost let go after waking up.

"Fuck...sorry," Geralt muttered, then used his witcher speed to get Jaskier a chamber pot as quickly as he could. It was just in time and Geralt waited outside the door for over two minutes, feeling guilty.

Jaskier had never thought that a witcher could look like a kicked puppy dog but this one obviously could. "It's alright," Jaskier said, slightly blushing, "no harm done."

Now that the desperation had left Jaskier, his voice was quiet and slightly shy again. Yet Geralt noticed there was a change in his eyes. At first he passed it off as Jaskier just being properly rested but then he realized that it was the expression that had changed. There was hope in them.

Despite gazing in these eyes for several minutes the day before, when Geralt had shared Jaskier's hurt without saying a word, this was the first time he actually noticed how piercingly blue they were. It was almost distracting.

Jaskier jawned as they both watched the rising sun. He gave his makeshift bed a longing look.

"You're right, it's way too early, let's get some more sleep," Geralt suggested and with that, they both crawled back into their respective beds again.

A few hours later there was a knock on the door.

It was Lambert and, without waiting, he opened it and exclaimed in a loud voice: "Sleeping in, are we? Well, consider yourself lucky, I saved you some breakfast, you lazy prick – don't get used to it!"

Geralt opened his eyes, only to see that Jaskier had shot up from his pile of blankets and was now desperately trying to hide behind Geralt's desk at the far end of the room, the expression of terror back in his eyes. Lambert saw it too.

"Nicely done, Lambert," Geralt hissed at the other witcher.

Lambert, being aware of Jaskier watching his every move, tried to calm the situation in his very unique Lambert-way.

He gave Jaskier a wink, then looked at Geralt, feigning shock and uttered: "Gods, Geralt, I knew your social skills were somewhat withered...but locking this man in your room, letting him sleep on the floor like a dog and then making him miss out on breakfast...I really do think all hope's lost on you – and put on some damn clothes!"

Lamber now turned his gaze to Jaskier, voice at once much more gentle. "What's your name, fella?" Jaskier, somewhat encouraged by Lambert's mocking, softly answered: "Jaskier."

"Jaskier? What kind of name is - ," Geralt's elbow made harsh contact with Lambert's ribs.

"Ouch! Nice to meet you, Jaskier." Lambert held his ribs.

"If you'd like to be around," he shortly glanced at Geralt, "someone more civilized, you can always come down and join the rest of us in the hall. I'll leave now."

Thinking of "Lambert" and "civilized"´" in the same sentence made Geralt emit a low chuckle. Lambert had left the room and Geralt turned towards Jaskier. He almost couldn't believe it but there was a small grin on Jaskier's face. It made for a good look on him, like it did belong there.

The smell of breakfast quickly drew Jaskier out of his hiding spot behind the desk. There were boiled eggs, some red juice, warm bread with butter melting on it, porridge and something that looked like little cakes topped with sugar. Jaskier's mouth watered. Geralt smiled and passed the plate to Jaskier.

Jaskier immediately started eating but the speed wasn't as panicked as the day before. After the first slice of bread he paused and questioningly held out the plate to Geralt for him to pick something. Geralt shot him an incredulous look. The man who had suffered from constant hunger for who knows how long, who had been ready to eat his own vomit just yesterday, was offering HIM his plate.

Geralt waved his hand at the offered food, masking how much the gesture was touching him.

This time, Jaskier managed to stop eating before his stomach made the food come back up again. Geralt could see the sheer amount of willpower it took Jaskier to do so. There was still about three quarters of the meal left as Jaskier's stomach could only manage a few bites at a time yet.

Geralt ate some of the remains but left enough for Jaskier to have a second breakfast later.

The witcher's gaze fell upon the marks at Jaskier's wrist and was suddenly reminded that they still had to be treated. He told Jaskier he'd go fetch some salve and took the chamber pot with him to empty it outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope Lambert wasn't completely out of character, I haven't met him yet in the books. ^^


	6. Chapter 6

On his way to get the salve, Geralt was met by Lambert.

"Umm, sorry about earlier, I didn't mean to scare the poor lad," Lambert murmured

"It's alright, in fact, you managed to make him grin for the very first time since's he's been here," Geralt replied.

Hearing that was making Lambert feel a little bit proud but he exclaimed: "Of course, I'm the only one around here with good humor, being around you just doesn't give him anything to smile about." Geralt rolled his eyes and retorted: "I bet he only smiled because I nudged you in the ribs when you tried to make fun of his name." Lambert chuckled at that, then he grew serious. "But honestly, how is he doing?"

"I'm not sure," Geralt said. "The things he must have been through... Everyone who was trapped with him at this castle is dead now, he watched them die. Slowly. And you've seen the condition he was in when we brought him here. Those men...they used them, _him_ to get physical pleasures."

"You mean...?"

"Yes."

At this, Lambert spit out on the floor. "Shame those bastards are already dead, would've loved to spend more time with them." "My thoughts exactly," Geralt agreed grimly. "Yesterday Jaskier was absolutely terrified I might do the same to him. And when I gave him food, he had at it so quickly he kept vomiting over and over again and then I had to keep him from eating his vomit." Lambert frowned. Geralt continued with a sigh: "If you had asked me yesterday, I would have estimated that it would take him months to get to the shape he is in now. He even stopped to offer me some when he had breakfast this morning. Still I think he's only starting to experience the repercussions of what he's been through."

"He's a strong one, he'll make it," Lambert stated firmly.

"You've only seen him conscious for a few seconds."

"It doesn't matter, I just know it," Lambert persisted.

"Let's hope you're right," Geralt mumbled absently.

Geralt excused himself and went to retrieve the salve.

Jaskier winced as the door opened but as soon as he saw that it was Geralt, he relaxed. "Listen, I'm not gonna sugarcoat it, this salve is gonna burn like hell but only for a minute. Then your skin will get numb and you'll feel nothing but a tickle. I really wish I could spare you this or use some other ointment but this salve prevents infection and helps along the healing like nothing else. You might not even keep obvious scars if you're lucky."

Geralt couldn't read what went through Jaskier's mind right then and he didn't ask. They sat down by the fireplace and Jaskier extended his wrists. Geralt started applying the salve where the rope burns had left them raw and open. He'd maybe covered about an inch with it when Jaskier hissed and pulled his hands away.

"I'm sorry," Geralt said and gritted his teeth. He didn't make any attempt to reach for Jaskier's wrists again.

They waited about a minute and Jaskier curiously watched his wrist as the burning sensation dulled down to a slight tickle. Jaskier extended his right wrist again. Geralt managed to carefully cover another inch of skin until Jaskier pulled away once more, biting his lip.

Had it been any other person, Geralt had just trapped their hands, made quick work of it and told them to stop whining, the pain was only lasting for a minute after all. But the witcher knew that Jaskier's trust in him was still thin, easily disturbed or broken. Moreover...he just felt the need to be gentle with him. Not just because Jaskier trusting him would make things easier but because...Jaskier just deserved gentleness in his life.

They proceeded inch by inch, waiting a minute in between each inch. Finally, there was only his left ankle left.

"Just cover it all up in one go," Jaskier demanded.

"Are you sure?" Geralt asked.

Jaskier nodded affirmatively.

Geralt did as he was told, tapping into his witcher speed.

The second he was done Jaskier jumped up, exclaiming "Ow no, I'm NOT sure, definitely not sure, I'm..." What followed was a colorful variety of curses that managed to include the salve, the inventor of the salve and the salve's inventor's mother.

Geralt was quite impressed.

"You'll be pleased to hear that we have to do that again tomorrow morning." It was the first time Geralt let some of his dry humor show through around Jaskier.

Jaskier looked like he wanted to swear again but had run out of curses. So instead he said: "That's marvelous, I can't wait. If only it was the next day already." Geralt laughed, it was a hearty laugh and he was astonished that Jaskier seemed to share his kind of humor.

Now that the pain had ceased, Jaskier was back to being quiet again while Geralt wrapped some bandages around his wrists and ankles.

Geralt noticed that whenever Jaskier was in desperation or pain around him, there seemed to be more of Jaskier's former personality to shine though. Apparently his former self had been bubbling with energy and the witcher found himself hoping he might be able to see more of that person Jaskier could be...had been, in fact.

When Geralt placed the slices of roast beef they had for lunch in front of Jaskier, he was surprised by his reaction. Instead of instantly starting to eat as Geralt had expected, he just gave the slices a long look.

"Anything wrong?" Geralt inquired.

"No, it's just...I can't remember the last time I had any meat," Jaskier explained hesitantly.

Geralt just nodded, not really knowing what to say that wouldn't have been flat or obvious. Then he watched Jaskier dig into it, definitely relishing the meal.

Jaskier was still very quiet after he had finished. Back then, before he had been through literal hell and back, he had usually been rambling constantly about what was going through his head. But now, all he could think of were the images of people starving slowly to death around him and the feeling of terror and being absolutely powerless. It was nothing he wished to share, so he kept silent.

To keep himself busy, Geralt brought some ingredients for witcher potions up to his room and started cutting them up and mixing them to restock his supply.

Jaskier just sat there quietly and stared at the same spot for over an hour. Geralt didn't know what to do about it or _if_ he even should do something about it, so he just left Jaskier be. Suddenly Jaskier snapped out of it and turned to Geralt to ask for some paper.

Geralt brought him some and a pen. Out of the corner of his eye Geralt curiously watched what Jaskier was doing. Jaskier didn't take the pen and, instead, went to fetch a piece of charcoal from the fireplace.

Then he sat down on the floor, crossed his legs and started to scribble, glancing up at Geralt from time to time. When he was finished, he just looked out the window, fingers now black with charcoal. Geralt couldn't help but sneak a quick glance. The painting clearly depicted the witcher at this very scenery how he was preparing his potions.

"That's very good!" Geralt blurted out, "Are you an artist?"

"No, not like that, no," Jaskier denied with a small flattered smile. "You can keep it, if you like." He held out his work to Geralt.

"Umm, thank you," the witcher murmured, not used to getting gifts, much less gifts that were manufactured with such devotion.

He took the drawing and pinned it at the wall behind his desk. Even though he didn't know how to feel about having pictures of himself displayed in his room, he didn't want Jaskier to think he didn't appreciate the gift.

When the sun started to set and they had eaten supper, Geralt glanced at Jaskier's makeshift bed.

"You know, Lambert was right. I really shouldn't let you sleep on the floor."

Before Jaskier could intervene, Geralt moved the massive bed over to the fireplace, an action that would have taken several humans to perform. Then he lifted all the pillows and blankets up on the bed, except for one blanket and one pillow.

"Umm, where are you going to sleep?" Jaskier asked.

Geralt nodded over to where his bed had formerly been. "Or I could sleep in another room if you'd prefer that."

"No, please stay!" Jaskier hurried to say, anxious that the witcher might leave him alone at night, "don't you think...the bed might be big enough for both of us?"


	7. Chapter 7

Geralt hesitated. The bed was indeed so big the both of them would fit in comfortably with several foot of space left between them.

"Are you sure you'd be okay with that?" Geralt inquired apprehensively. Jaskier nodded affirmatively. "That means, if you are, of course," he quickly added, dropping his gaze. "Sure," Geralt replied. "But remember, you can always change your mind and tell me to get out, alright?" Jaskier nodded again.

Jaskier's willingness to share a bed with another person, to let someone else be so close to him after all he had experienced, left Geralt startled. This wasn't Jaskier being so exhausted he basically didn't care about anything anymore, this was him actively choosing to share a bed with Geralt whom he'd only known for two days. The witcher didn't really know how to deal with the sudden gesture of trust, so he concentrated on lighting a fire.

Jaskier crawled into the pile of blankets on his side of the bed and curled up into a little ball. He watched the witcher's silouhette that was bathed in a golden shine emitted from the fireplace.

Geralt remembered Lambert's comment about modesty, then layed down without taking off his leather jerkin as he had usually done with the fire warming the room.

The witcher started sweating instantly and pulling away the blanket didn't help much. He tossed and turned and wondered how Jaskier managed not to swelter with not only one but several blankets wrapped around him. Jaskier noticed the witcher's discomfort. "You can take the jerkin off, you know?" he whispered quietly.

Geralt hesitated. He knew he probably wouldn't get a wink of sleep if he stayed like this. But then again, he didn't want to irritate Jaskier.

Finally, Geralt decided to take the thick leather jerkin off, the heat was just too unbearable and, after all, Jaskier had proposed it. The witcher exhaled deeply as the air touched the naked skin of his torso. But then he could smell the rush of adrenaline running through Jaskier's veins. He looked at Jaskier who was completely frozen. His heart was pounding loudly in his chest, his throat had tightened up and his breathing was ragged and shallow.

Geralt cursed and reached for his jerkin while he moved away, trying to give Jaskier some space.

But Jaskier lifted his hand in Geralt's direction to stop him and to indicate he was going to say something. He took a few deep breaths and swallowed hard a couple of times, until he managed to speak. "Please, just stay exactly like that."

Geralt's brows furrowed. "Jaskier, this reminds you of..." "It does," Jaskier interruped him. "But what am I supposed to do? Panic every time someone pulls off their shirt around me? Just give me a minute, will you?"

Geralt remained as he was, not moving a muscle. He looked at Jaskier.

Jaskier slowly lifted his head and let his gaze wander over Geralt's exposed torso, taking in every inch of skin, every scar. He took his time and his gaze was so intense Geralt had to keep himself from fidgeting. Under different circumstances Geralt would have found the situation amusing.

After what felt like a really long time, Jaskier met Geralt's eyes and stated contentedly: "Done."

"Done?" Geralt asked, hoping he might get some hint as to what he was expected to do now.

"Done." Jaskier confirmed and snuggled up in the blankets again, the tension had left his body.

Geralt shook off his confusion and lay down again as well.

Jaskier wondered why the sight of Geralt's exposed skin had hit him that hard just now. It was nothing he hadn't seen in the morning, when an urgent need had forced him to wake the witcher up. Not that he wasn't glad it hadn't affected him to that extent earlier – otherwise his morning would've started quite unpleasantly (and much more embarrassingly). Still he couldn't tell what the trigger was. So he asked Geralt about it.

"Could have been anything, the time of the day, the situation, me being so close to you, the process of undressing... ," the witcher elaborated.

Jaskier sighed. "The thing is, it's not like I was having flashbacks. I just felt really, really anxious all of a sudden. Like my life was under threat – but at the same time, I could clearly see that it wasn't. It's just...strange." Jaskier shrugged. Then he added: "Let's try to sleep now."

They both fell asleep rather quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, super short chapter, but the next one is gonna be longer, I promise :)


	8. Chapter 8

In the middle of the night Geralt was woken up by the smell of fear and urine.

He turned to look at Jaskier who was still asleep, clearly having a nightmare. Geralt was about to touch his arm but before he reached him, Jaskier woke with a start. He shivered all over and was covered in cold sweat, his heart was racing and he was feeling distinctly nauseous. Slowly, he started to realize where he was.

Fortunately, the fireplace was still illuminating the room. The only thing worse than waking up from a nightmare was waking up from a nightmare in total darkness.

Jaskier's head was spinning and for a minute all he did was shiver and breathe. As he slowly calmed himself down, he exclaimed: "Now, _that_ was a flashback!" His shaky voice betrayed his attempt at sounding confident. Then Jaskier noticed the warm feeling that had spread between his legs. For a moment he froze in shock and embarrassment and wondered if he could hide the accident from the witcher, who, of course, had to be awake. Looking at Geralt's face he knew that Geralt knew, probably had known before Jaskier did.

Still lying on his back, he punched the mattress with both his fists and made the straw it was filled with rustle. Then he shot Geralt a challenging look to mask that he was afraid of the witcher's reaction.

Geralt had felt very helpless as he watched Jaskier recover from his nightmare, not being able to prevent it, neither to help him calm down from it. But somehow he was glad to see that Jaskier dealt with it by being angry rather than turning to despair. Geralt could deal with angry, he was more familiar with it. He could see that Jaskier was anxiously waiting for a reaction.

"Don't look at me like you've committed some sort of crime, that look doesn't suit you," Geralt hushed. "Now get up and go get some new trousers from the wardrobe."

A faint smile of relief appeared on Jaskier lips as he made his way to the wardrobe.

Geralt determined that only one of the blankets was soiled, so he tossed it in a corner to deal with it the next day.

Jaskier made it back to the bed, wearing trousers that were far to big for him but he wasn't bothered by it. He sat down on the bed, hugged his knees and looked at Geralt's face. He didn't explain what he had dreamt of and the witcher didn't ask.

Just then the light emitted by the fireplace was hitting Geralt's eyes at a certain angle and they glowed bright yellow in the dark, just like cat eyes. Only that with a cat it might have passed off as cute, on an almost six and a half feet tall and bulky witcher, however, it just looked plain scary. Jaskier jumped back up from the bed and yelled: "Holy Melitele, your eyes!"

Geralt was startled at first, not recognizing what Jaskier had seen. Then it dawned on him and he started to apologize.

Jaskier, quickly realizing that it had been just a combination of light and witcher eyes that spooked him, interrupted Geralt and exclaimed: "I honestly don't know how many scares my heart can take in one night but I suspect we're reaching my limit here. What the fuck is up with your eyes?" Geralt sensed that Jaskier had gotten over the worst of the shock. "Get back to bed and I'll explain, alright?" he suggested with an apologizing smile.

"Oh hell, sleep can kiss my arse right now!" Jaskier was furious.

He fetched a piece of paper and another piece of charcoal, sat down in front of the fireplace and started to scribble. But it seemed he was too tired, soon he ripped the paper and threw it into the fireplace. Then Jaskier hesitantly climbed back onto the bed.

"Would you still tell me what they did to your eyes?" Jaskier asked, now all soft and mellow again.

And Geralt started to explain, he talked about what he knew of the trial of the grasses and the trial of the dreams as Jaskier listened carefully.

"So...you can see in the pitch-dark?" Jaskier asked into the silence.

"Like a cat," Geralt confirmed. "Yet cats seem to hate witchers, I don't know why. Maybe they can sense we are not natural."

"Well, what _is_ natural these days?" Jaskier interjected. "Is it the elves and dwarves that get pushed back to the edge of the inhabited world further and further? The trolls that dwell in their caves and under their bridges? The mages that look so much like us humans, and yet, are of a vastly different nature? Are the dragons natural, the mermaids in their water realm so very foreign and inaccessible to us? What about...humans? The Conjunction of the Spheres squeezed together creatures and folk that was never meant to coexist. And what bitter irony that what has been done to me has been done by my own kind..." Jaskier shook his head.

Geralt's mouth fell open at Jaskier's little speech. Jaskier managed to astound him time and time again.

"What, I'm not iliterate!" Jaskier feigned hurt.

"No, you are not indeed," Geralt said almost reverently. "Where did you gain your knowledge?"

"Well, I studied at Oxenfurt when...when I was...when my further attendance was suddendly made impossible."

"Why did nobody look for you? Surely you would be missed," Geralt urged to know.

" _That_ I would like to know myself," Jaskier answered, "maybe their search was unsuccessful, maybe they didn't bother to look for me."

"Would you like to write a letter to anyone?"

"No, not just yet."

And Geralt left it at that.

They kept talking all the way through the rest of the night, until the first rays of sunlight hit their window.

Geralt gave Jaskier another treatment with the salve that made the skin burn. He learned that Jaskier hadn't used up all of his curses when he'd applied the salve on his skin yesterday. Either that or Jaskier had thought of some new ones during the night.

They ate and Jaskier still had to take several small meals throughout the day in order not to upset his stomach. Yet one could already see the first signs of his body recovering, now that it was no longer starving. Of course, there weren't any changes in his weight yet, but he seemed to have more energy, more life in him and the dark circles around his eyes had started to disappear despite the rather short night.

Geralt thought about introducing Jaskier to Roach as he remembered the...thing he had taken with him from the castle. The one that looked like someone had just mashed together wood and wire. Geralt would never have noticed it, but Jaskier had reached for it just before the sight of a blood-smeared, certain white-haired witcher had rendered him unconscious.

That certain white-haired witcher now made his way to the stables where he had left the thing. He'd forgotten about it until now.

Looking at it, he still couldn't tell what it was (if it had ever been anything more than what it was now). He picked it up and carried it to his room, where Jaskier was waiting patiently.

"I, umm, took something with me, when I was at the castle."

"Something other than me?" Jaskier winked. When the sun was up and no one else was there but Geralt, one never would have thought it had only been three days since Jaskier had been safed from his gruesome destiny.

Geralt smiled his rare smile that found its way on his lips much more often since Jaskier was around.

"Yes, something other than you," he replied. "I don't know if it holds any kind of meaning to you but back there, you looked like it did."

Geralt handed Jaskier the thing.

Jaskier carefully took it in his hands, stroked it and sighed. And then a tear rolled down his cheek, followed by several others.

In all this time, Geralt had not seen Jaskier cry a single tear. Not when he'd been afraid of starving while not being able to keep down his food, not when he'd thought Geralt would rape him and not when he'd shivered from nightmares that had made him wet himself.

But now he stood there, weeping about something that to Geralt looked like a piece of junk.

"What _is_ that?" Geralt whispered.

Jaskier shook his head, as if to chase away some memories. "This was a lute once. My lute. I tried to give the others hope by playing it. Or at least I tried to give them some sort comfort in the final minutes of their lives if I knew someone was about to pass away. Our captors smashed it and left it nearby for me to see every day.

But I kept singing to the others when I sensed their time had come, sometimes until I lost my voice." Jaskier closed his eyes and swallowed hard.

The witcher had to clear his throat before he asked gently: "Do you have any idea why you survived? It sounds like you've been there for longer than most of them and still you are alive."

At that Jaskier burst into tears, he covered his face with his hands and sobbed: "I don't kno-o-o-w". The last word was drawn out by his shaky crying.

The trial of the grasses dulled the emotions of a witcher. But Geralt wasn't made of stone and he couldn't help but to pull Jaskier into a tight yet very gentle embrace.

Jaskier had sunken down to the floor and Geralt followed with him.

The bard shook and cried for several minutes until he finally calmed down enough to at least speak again. "These men probably took a liking in me – in taking me – so they gave me just a little bit more food and water than the others. I came to see it as my task, my destiny, to make sure the other souls were granted a peaceful passing so...," Jaskier started sobbing again, "I just had to stay there, I couldn't die and leave them."

Geralt finally had to wipe his eyes as well.

Jaskier's tears suddenly dried up as he seemed to remember something.

He met Geralt's eyes and whispered softly: "You know, when all of us were in there together, we made a deal, a kind of pact. If some of us made it out alive, they would live their lives not only for themselves but also for the ones that didn't make it. We told each other about our dreams, our wishes and what we would do if we survived somehow. The idea was that the ones that made it out of that dreadful prison should try to fulfill the wishes of the ones that had passed. It were little things, like eat a certain food, smell a special flower or journey to the sea. Tell me Geralt, is that silly?"

The witcher needed a short moment to realize he was required to say something, he'd been so absorbed by Jaskier's words. Then he answered: "No, not in the slightest...and it gave you hope, all of you." The witcher paused briefly, then he continued: "I vow to help you do all of these things...that means, if you want to do them."

Jaskier nodded and smiled a smile that was both happy and sad. "Of course I will do them...it's all that's left to do. Thank you for supporting me."

"So...what was yours?" Geralt asked.

"My what?"

"Your last wish."

"Oh," Jaskier smiled again. "There's a bard, Essi, goes by the name of Little Eye. She's very dear to me, like she's my little sister. My wish was to hear her sing again for one last time."

"We will find her and you _will_ get to hear her sing again," Geralt assured.

"Yes, but not until I experienced all of these other things, these other wishes. My own wish will be the last one on the list," Jaskier declared.

"Just give yourself time to recover first, okay?" The witcher was merely making a request, nothing more.

Jaskier nodded. "I will. Luckily no one wished to see me dead in the snow, so be assured, I'll take my time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one tiny chapter left now, this story is soon coming to an end...it was incredible fun writing it! :)
> 
> Thank you to everybody who's made it so far and put up with my English, and a special thanks to everyone leaving a comment, that always makes me SO happy! xD


	9. Chapter 9

The next day, Geralt headed out to a market, it was half a day's journey to get there through the cold of winter. And, as fate willed, he actually found a lute to buy for Jaskier.

It hadn't been cheap, but watching Jaskier's eyes go big in awe and putting him on the verge of crying tears of happiness made it all worthwhile.

Soon the music of his instrument told of all the horrors Jaskier had endured, which he had never been able to tell in detail himself, even to Geralt. But the music also told of the hope of overcoming them and of the gratitude towards his saviors.

Over time, Jaskier also learned to trust the other witchers and could often be found joining them down in the hall, the air of laughter and music always surrounding him. It turned out the bard could tell enthralling stories like no one else, even though the witchers could never be sure if they were real or made up, but they never failed to entertain them nonetheless.

One day Geralt came down to see that Jaskier had launched himself at Lambert, which was making the white-haired witcher a bit concerned as he had no idea what was going on. But soon he heard the guffaw coming from the two of them. Lambert made a show of trying to struggle himself free as he screamed: "Ah, Geralt, get your attack bard off of me!"

But Geralt just grinned smugly and replied: "Knowing you, you've probably done something to deserve it, Lambert!"

"Damn right, you cheated at gwent, how could you? - Geralt, he cheated at gwent!"

"Because you kept winning all my coin, no one is that lucky," Lambert objected, gasping for air from laughing.

" _I_ am, I'm kissed by fortune, and _you_ are a bloody _cheater_!" With that Jaskier rolled off of Lambert, panting and holding his ribs, a wide grin splitting is face.

Geralt looked at them, addressed Lambert and said: "You know, you were right about Jaskier."

Jaskier, who had just managed to catch his breath, jumped up, threatening to launch himself at Geralt next, and asked: "What did he say about me, Geralt? What was it? Tell me!"

But both witchers just smiled.

The nightmares continued to get under Jaskier's skin for some time, but Geralt was always right there at his side to support him. More often than not the bard would end up spending the night curled up against his witcher and he knew that Geralt, even though he would never admit to it, enjoyed it too.

Geralt would take Jaskier to the taverns to play for the guests, allowing him to earn a livelihood of his own. He would enjoy watching Jaskier truly come alive during his performances, how he relished the attention he was given, and how much he seemed to belong on a stage.

When Jaskier was ready for it and the winter had passed, they started to journey together and Geralt helped Jaskier fulfill the wishes of his passed comrades and finally, his own one. On their path the witcher would sometimes be snarky but Jaskier would always have a retort ready on his lips. And both of them knew their squabbles were never serious, even if it looked like it to outsiders.

They knew that they were bound by something more...much more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tadaaa, we've reached the end. :)
> 
> Thank you for all of the support you gave me, it made me really happy and I'm glad I could share this story with you all.
> 
> Now, there's a little bonus chapter that somehow demanded to be written, so I wrote it.  
> I can't really explain it, but it got a little smutty, a little weird and...whatever, just know that if you're not into watersports/omorashi, then you probably shouldn't read it and THIS chapter is the LAST one for you. ;)


	10. The smutty bonus chapter ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a kind of bonus chapter that takes place maybe a month or two after the last one (and it's actually the first time Geralt & Jaskier cuddle in bed :)).  
> Okay *takes deep breath* how do I say this? I really can't explain it, but somehow it turned out to involve omorashi/watersports, little bit of both (the thing with pee, yes xD) – but less smut and more story-based, so it'll probably be too much for normal people and too little for you kinky ones out there, in both cases: I apologize!  
> I really don't know which group of people I'm trying to appeal to here. xD  
> The first part and the very last paragraph of this chapter is actually kink-free, so I put up some sort of warning line around the smut. xD  
> Anyways: Don't like, don't read and just pretend the story ended with the chapter before this one. ^^  
> I just felt the need to kinda wrap up that whole abuse story/Jaskier being afraid of sex, without making the two of them actually do the deed...OR maybe this is just some way to justify that my dirty thoughts made it into that story at last...we'll never know. ^^
> 
> I ashamedly present: The bonus chapter that was never meant to happen :D

One evening there had been a huge celebration down in the hall.  
It had been Eskel's birthday and, as there wasn't that much to celebrate in Kaer Morhen where usually no one married or successfully made it through the witcher trials anymore, they practically jumped at the opportunity to at least celebrate something.  
It had become a yearly ritual during the winter and the ceremony was as much for Eskel as it was for any of the other witchers, to remind them they were not alone on the path. The path they would inevitably set out on once again, as soon as the first flowers of spring would start to bud, no one knowing what dangers or delights it might hold for them this time.

Now that Jaskier was around, the festivities had definitely experienced an enhancement as there was, for the first time, an actual kind of entertainment aside from Lambert's obnoxious jokes.

The way Jaskier could sway a room full of people (or in that case: witchers) by just reciting a few carefully chosen words accompanied by some hearty strumming of his lute sure felt like some kind of magic to his audience.  
Jaskier could even hear one of the witchers ask why they hadn't hired a bard earlier. At which Jaskier interupted the song he was currently performing to remark with a wink: "You know, they're not all as good as me" - and immediately carried on with his song, which earned him quite some laughter.  
The bard had been working especially hard on his new songs the days before and it really paid off. He'd even written Eskel a birthday song that praised his heroic deeds (he'd interviewed Geralt for it, which had turned out a rather tricky task, given how little the white-haired witcher usually liked to share about that sort of things but Jaskier had finally succeeded.)  
Eskel seemed to be really flattered by the song, which made Jaskier exremely happy. He owed Eskel his life after all and it felt good to be able to give at least _something_ back, however humble it might be.

It was a really merry evening, there was ale and wine, and a feast that left nothing to be desired.

Finally, after a whole bunch of encores, Jaskier made it up to Geralt's room where he'd been sleeping in every single night since the witchers had saved him. Geralt followed by his side.  
Jaskier felt a little tipsy even though he really hadn't had that much. He still wasn't back to his normal weight yet, so it obviously affected him a little more than usual. However, he was definitely on the good side of tipsy, the one that made him pleasently sleepy, yet still talkative.

When they made it to Geralt's huge bed, Geralt took off his shirt as he always did, and each of them immediately crawled in on their respective side of it – only to realize none of them had taken the time to put some logs in the fireplace.  
What followed was a dialogue consisting only of unintelligible grunts that might or might not have translated to: "Your turn to take care of the fireplace." "Nope, absolutely not getting up again." "Pleease?" "Nope!"

Jaskier knew he didn't stand a chance since they were only having their 'discussion' for his sake anyway, Geralt never seemed to feel cold at all. The witcher didn't even sleep with a blanket, as they usually had a fire going.

Still, Jaskier definitely didn't feel like slipping out from under his blanket again. So, he had an idea. He simply rolled over at Geralt's side of the bed, lifted up his blanket just enough to throw it over the witcher and, after a second of hesitation, shamelessly snuggled up against him and stole his body heat.

The witcher drew in a surprised breath while Jaskier was making a sound of triumph. Rearranging himself, Geralt grumbled, but this time it definitely translated to: "Alright, fine."  
At which Jaskier made a pleased sound.

Being the chatty bard he was, Jaskier's time of not using words had definitely come to an end. With Geralt's warmth cozily spreading around him, he started rambling: "You know, it's been a long time since I attended a fine celebration like this, I really missed this, it was absolutely marvelous, delicious food, fine wine," he sighed, "...we were only short of a few nice ladies to delight us with...well, their delights." Jaskier was definitely either tipsy or sleepy, or both.  
Geralt chuckled lowly.

But then he could practically feel Jaskier grow thoughtful next to him. The bard shifted on his back, his side still touching Geralt's, as he once again started to speak. "Well, I guess for me that ship has sailed, anyway."  
The witcher couldn't determine whether Jaskier was sounding bitter or merely stating a fact.

Instinctively he answered: "Well, when you're traveling alongside me, of course the ladies might be deterred...but when you weigh your charisma against the" - Geralt's voice became as dramatic as a witcher's voice could sound, which wasn't much, but anyhow - "air of fear surrounding me" - his voice went back to normal - "I really wouldn't go as far as to call that ship sailed."

Jaskier didn't comment on the witcher's answer, he didn't even snicker. Instead, Geralt could feel Jaskier stiffen and he instantly knew he had interpreted the bard's words the wrong way.

"Sorry," Geralt mumbled, not knowing what else to say.  
Jaskier slowly seemed to relax again before he answered: "It's not your fault. And I actually liked your answer. It's just...I think the last two years damaged something fundamental in me." He paused but the witcher could feel he wasn't done, so he kept silent and waited. It was the first time the bard started to actually open up (at least to some degree) about what was going on inside him regarding that matter. Geralt had never pressured him and he wouldn't start now.

After a short while Jaskier continued: "It just feels like...the way I see other people, the way I see myself...has been forever altered." He swallowed hard and Geralt knew that this was as much as Jaskier was able to share with him.  
"It seems like I'm forced to reassess what I really want in life," Jaskier closed matter-of-factly.

Geralt suddenly felt the urge to hug Jaskier very tightly. And, before he could start to debate on whether or not Jaskier would actually want that, he just did it.  
The bard made a little surprised sound, froze for a second, and then melted into Geralt's touch. He turned onto his side, buried his head in the witcher's neck and returned the hug. "Thank you," he whispered.  
Then both of them peacefully drifted off to sleep.

_**\-------------this is the omorashi/water sports kink line, if it's not your thing, do not cross ---------------** _

It was the middle of the night and Jaskier was fast asleep, comfortably curled up against his witcher, head resting on the witcher's bare chest. He was dreaming. Of his time at the castle. But for what might have been the first time ever, it wasn't actually a nightmare.  
In his dream, Jaskier's hands and feet were tied as they had always been back when he was a prisoner. But his dreaming mind somehow forgot to include the feeling of terror, as it sometimes was the way with dreams. Instead the dream focused on the fact that Jaskier felt the need to go. Knowing that no one would ever come to tend to his needs, Jaskier just tried to let go, as he'd done so many times in reality back then.

But somehow it wouldn't work, despite the urge being clear and present. Jaskier just squeezed harder and...ah, finally the pressure was starting to leave him

Outside of Jaskier's dream the white-haired witcher was woken by a destinctly warm feeling spreading out across the side of his hip. He lifted his head to look at the bard who was sleeping peacefully. Geralt used his other senses but couldn't detect any hint Jaskier might be under distress. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying whatever was going in his dreams. There was a faint smile on the bard's face and he uttered a small relieved sigh as the warm spot at Geralt's hip was slowly growing.

And that was all it took to make the witcher come undone. Geralt was taken completely by surprise, as he felt an intense pleasure shoot down his back, pass through his stomach and gather between his legs. The witcher had suspected he had a weakness for that sort of thing, but he'd never shared it with anybody, let alone actively sought out a situation like this. It had not so much been shame that had kept him from it as the feeling he might not enjoy it as much as he thought he would and therefore, it wouldn't be worth the trouble (well, and the shame) of finding someone who'd fulfill this sort of fantasy.

But, oh boy, had he been wrong about it.  
Geralt was still lying on his back, shivers running down his spine, muscles tense with pleasure. He hadn't moved an inch. His breathing was deep yet fast. He gazed at the sleeping bard and his fists clenched as he saw the relieved (or rather: relieving) expression on his face. The witcher was trying his best no to moan and squeezed his eyes shut.  
He would have liked to tell himself that is was for reasons of modesty, but in reality it was just to enjoy the situation with his other senses as well. He wasn't proud of it, especially not after the conversation they'd had just before they went to sleep. But oh, what a blessing that hightened witcher senses could be.

Even though he still hadn't moved one bit, Geralt could feel how he was actually getting close to... He opened his eyes to take in the view once more – only to find cornflower blue ones staring into his own. If Geralt had been entirely human, he probably would have blushed.  
At first, Jaskier couldn't seem to place what it was, only that there was definitely something going on aside from himself wetting the bed again (and Geralt, as he realized to his own dismay).

Geralt had no idea how much the bard could read in the face of a witcher. But it didn't matter anyway as Jaskier's gaze lowered and Geralt wished that for once he had been sleeping fully covered in a blanket.  
Jaskier cocked his head questioningly, returning to meet Geralt's eyes. It was one of those rare occasions the bard was at a loss of words.

Geralt instantly tried to determine at what level he had upset Jaskier, if seeing the witcher like this had brought up any flashbacks to the bard. Or, equally (if not even) worse, if Jaskier would think this to be some kind of sick joke after their previous conversation.

But Jaskier didn't smell of fear nor anger, his heart was just beating at a mildly quicker pace. Geralt realized he owed Jaskier some kind of explanation.  
"Please, don't be afraid...I do not desire you in that way at all." Geralt said it with such absolute certainty in his voice, Jaskier just had to believe him, even though it seemed to contradict what he had just witnessed.

The bard felt a little bit relieved at that, as he really didn't know if he would ever be ready to engage in that sort of pleasures ever again.  
"I just react to when...," Geralt really didn't care to explain any further and instead just waited to see how Jaskier would take it.

He first thought himself hallucinating as he heard Jaskier chuckle.  
Then Jaskier started to think about it and inquired: "But you didn't react to it when it happened earlier...wait, _did_ you?!"  
At that, Geralt had to grin a little. Then he explained: "No, I didn't. When there's fear involved, like, when you have nightmares, it doesn't do anything for me."

Jaskier gave him a suspicious look and raised his eyebrows to coax a confession out of him.  
"I'm telling the truth, fear is a dealbreaker to me. Now that I think about it, I guess I even need you to enjoy it for me to...well."  
Jaskier smiled. "That's actually kind of sweet," he replied.  
"Hey, I didn't choose how it works," Geralt attempted to defend himself.

"Well, I take it I should be thankful you're wired that way, otherwise I would probably be sleeping on the floor right now," Jaskier teased.  
"You know you wouldn't," Geralt replied unexpectedly softly, and Jaskier instantly knew it to be true.

Suddenly Jaskier grimaced and said: "Dammit, I still need to go.", which earned him a hiss mixed with a groan from the witcher, both clearly not out of annoyance.

Examining the wet spot on his hip, Geralt realized Jaskier really hadn't leaked all that much, meaning there still had to be a good amount left in his bladder. Still, the bard had managed to soil Geralt's trousers, his own ones, and the bed, which could really be called impressive, given what little fluid had been used to do it. So, whatever would happen next, their clothes and the sheets were ruined anyway.

"Hmm," the witcher said.  
Suddenly Jaskier had a slightly mischievous expression in his eyes.  
"You'd like it if I would just...right here...wouldn't you?" It was more of a statement, rather than a question.

While everything in the witcher's body screamed 'yes', he shook his head and replied: "Jaskier, I don't want you to feel awkward, like I wouldn't see you as a person, I'm sorry, just forget about it."

"Ha, so you _would_ like it!" Jaskier exclaimed.  
Before Geralt could stop him, Jaskier slowly started stroking the inner side of his own right thigh, clearly tempting his bladder in an attempt to tease Geralt. The bard liked putting on a show after all. It was working.

While Jaskier definitely wasn't up to give himself to another person (or taking another person, that is) just yet (or maybe ever again), he found himself really enjoying to watch a squirming witcher. Knowing that Geralt was turned on, yet didn't have to suppress any urges to jump his bones, made Jaskier feel secure enough to watch the witcher's lust without being thrown back into flashbacks of darker times.

"Tell me you don't want to see what's going to happen soon if I keep doing" – a slow teasing stroke of his own thigh made Jaskier squirm with a different kind of need – "this."

Geralt opened his mouth to either deny it or to tell the bard he really didn't have to do this for him.  
However, he was interrupted by a shiver of pleasure running through his entire body, rendering him speechless.

Both of them errupted in shaky laughter, as there was just no denying of what this was doing to Geralt and how much he liked it.

Geralt's gaze was fixated on Jaskier's wet crotch and Jaskier, instead of feeling intimidated, just became bolder by the attention he was given, much like when he had performed in a room full of people with all eyes on him earlier that day.

Jaskier got up on his knees as close to Geralt as he possibly could without kneeling on him instead of next to him, his knees both touching Geralt's left hip.

He kept on stroking the inner sides of his thighs, and the squirming it caused was definitely not just for show. Geralt realized that if Jaskier wouldn't wear any pants and started to go in that kneeling position, he would piss all over Geralt's crotch, and the thought alone just made the heat between his legs intesify.

Jaskier took a deep breath before he actually tried to let go. Adrenaline was flooding his veins, as he felt a rush of pure excitement completely overwhelm him at the thought that he was really gonna let go right here on the bed...in his pants...with Geralt of fucking Rivia watching him. He started to shiver all over and it was so intense it made his teeth clatter.  
Geralt had never seen a person shake that hard and he actually became a little bit concerned as it lasted, while Jaskier was neither going nor moving.

"Are you alright?" the witcher asked, shortly distracted from his own pleasure.  
Jaskier was taking in a breath for every single word he spoke, his voice trembling from the shivers, as he answered: "T-t-this...j-just...f-f-feels...SO...amazing!"

Jaskier even felt himself grow a little hard, but he couldn't have pointed out what the exact trigger was if his life had depended on it. Whether it was the addicting sensation of being on the edge of letting go, the fact that he was about to do it in his pants on a bed, or that he had an extremely horny witcher by his side watching him do it, he just couldn't tell.

The shivers lessened a little and Jaskier noticed the situation was actually reminding him of his dream. When he'd tried to let go in his dream for the first time, his subconscious had somehow held him back, knowing he was in bed and it was not appropriate to do it there. In his dream Jaskier had just squeezed harder and it had started the flow. In reality Jaskier was doing the exact same thing right now and the pleasant shivers instantly increased again.

Jaskier could feel he was really, truly on the edge of wetting himself now. He cast one last glance at Geralt and asked: "You're sure?" But by the way Geralt's whole body tensed in expectation, Jaskier could see the question was absolutely redundant.

Jaskier closed his eyes, spread his legs a little wider, and concentrated. Then he felt the first few drops leaving him, and with them came such a huge rush of adrenaline that Jaskier was about giggle. But the liquid warmth surrounding the tip of his cock distracted him, as he allowed himself to indulge in the feeling.

He squeezed again and a larger spurt came out. Jaskier opened his eyes and looked down his pants. Even though the front of his pants was already wet, one could cleary see the fresh spurt soaking through his pants. He looked at the witcher, who was absolutely taken with the sight. Geralt watched Jaskier, as if he'd never seen anything more beautiful. Jaskier gave him a small smile.

Jaskier squeezed once more, and now that his tensed muscles down there had begun to loosen up, it really started to become harder _not_ to squeeze.  
Jaskier instinctively knew that this was the point where he would actually loose control if he would give in to his need. After all, his bladder was still really full and just waiting to let it all out.

Geralt seemed to sense it, too, as he coaxed in a soothing voice: “Just let it happen, trust your body, it's gonna feel so right”.  
And because Jaskier had never been any good at withstanding temptions, he just gave in. Let his body take over, let his muscles instinctively open and contract at all the right places to release the pressure that had been building up in his bladder.

Jaskier could almost instantly feel the rivulets of warm piss running down his legs. Somewhere deep within him his subconscious was still screaming at him to stop, that he couldn't do that because he was in his pants...on a bed...with a witcher...but the rest of his body was making him feel nothing but sheer pleasure. The feeling of the warm liquid passing through the tip of his cock was absolutely amazing, leaving it tingly and so, so sensitive. Without meaning to, Jaskier just squeezed harder, making his stream hard and hissing, really not able to stop himself.

That was the moment the bard was actually starting to become a bit desperate that it might be too much and said with a pleading voice: "Geralt, it's just...oh gods, I can't..." - at this point his voice started to get high and soft with defeat and embarassment, while there was still deep pleasure coursing through him like a storm - "shit, but it feels so good!" The last bit was just a whimper.

"Yes, it does and there's nothing you can do to stop it now," the witcher moaned, his voiced choked on the impending absolutely intense orgasm that hit him just seconds later. He came completely untouched.

Finally Jaskier had finished, his blue trousers now a few shades darker, a smile of both embarrassment and joy (and maybe a little hint of mischief) on his lips. Just looking at that smile made Geralt twitch again.

Jaskier was still so full of adrenaline, that even the sight of cum running down on both sides of Geralt's stomach and slowly dripping down on the sheets didn't stirr up any unsettling memories in him. It gave him time to adjust to the scene, so he also would be fine with it when the adrenaline rush would be gone.

With the intense pleasure gone but the adrenaline still remaining, Jaskier looked down at his pants, at the bed and at Geralt, all of them in a state of total mess – and just started giggling.  
It started out reluctantly, but soon Jaskier let himself drop down on his back next to Geralt with uncontrollable giggles erupting from him, only interrupted by him panting: "Oh my God, did I really do that?...I really _did_ that...I can't believe that happened...turns out there is hope for me after all...or none at all..."  
It was clearly a reaction to the adrenaline rush but it quite effectively chased away the feeling of embarrassment, so Geralt joined in with a low chuckle.

Several minutes passed in which they did nothing but lie there and laugh until they finally calmed down a little.

Seeing Jaskier like this, smiling, pants completely soaked in his own piss, putting on this performance for Geralt without him even having to ask for it...the witcher realized with absolute certainty that he loved Jaskier. Loved him for doing this just for Geralt, loved him for actually finding pleasure in it himself, loved him for...just being Jaskier.

_**\--------------------------------------------------kink line ends here--------------------------------------------** _

As Jaskier was cozily snuggled up against the witcher again and said witcher had pulled him into a tight embrace, burying his nose in the bard's hair, Jaskier noticed something between them had changed. He couldn't put it into words yet, but he knew without the shadow of a doubt that he wanted exactly that. From life, from his witcher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you all for your support, I REALLY hope this bonus chapter didn't upset anyone (hey, I've been warning you :P).  
> If you want to make me happy, leave a comment. :)
> 
> I now go wallow in shame about this chapter (but somehow I can't help grinning xD).


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